Trapped
by flagma
Summary: Written for Let's write Sherlock challenge 5 Mycroft and Anderson are stuck in the yard lift. Awaiting rescue Mycroft is stuck with the most annoying man in the yard. T to be safe.


Mycroft was waiting for the lift doors at the yard to close. It had been a long and trying day and he had another appointment to keep. He was alone and the doors were about to close when somebody slipped though. Mycroft sighed inwardly and smiled politely at the man, who glared back. He vaguely recalled the man was called something along the lines of Anderson, from the reports he had made from everyone who came in contact with Sherlock. Mycroft tapped his umbrella on the floor and was thankful that he wouldn't need to make small talk with the man, he was quite bad at it and he had the feeling the man would irritate him to no end. There was a jarring clunk and Mycroft hand flew to the safety bar, to steady him when the lift shuddered. _This could be a problem_.

The repair man would be there in a half hour. It would have been a lot faster if Mycroft's mobile worked but there was no signal. Anderson was still furiously pressing buttons, as if that would make the lift work. Finally Anderson let out a grunt and kicked the lift, which resulted in a couple of curse words and Anderson hoping to the opposite side of the lift to Mycroft.

"Who are you anyway?" Anderson asked.

Mycroft smiled at him coldly "My name is none of your concern"

"What are you doing here?" Anderson continued

"I would believe that is none of your business" Mycroft replied, managing to keep the condescending tone out of his voice.

However the man scrunched up his face, which did him no favours, showed that being polite didn't do anything. This was going to be a long half hour.

"I've seen you outside crime scenes, what you get off on them or something" the man sneered.

Mycroft glared at the man, for the past twenty minutes the man had been going on and on about nothing, stating the obvious and ignoring the fact that Mycroft want responding_. It seems like Sherlock is right and the man can't see what is right in front of his face._ Anderson also spent a lot of the time insulting him. How could he be so stupid, for all he knew he could be his superior in his workplace. He was in a way.

"Why I am at crime scenes is none of your concern Anderson." Mycroft finally replied

"How do you know my name?" Anderson sneered.

"I know many things." Mycroft asked.

"So you're a freak." Anderson accused.

Mycroft kept a straight face, but inwardly flinched. It was not just his brother who had been called names in his youth. He was disappointed to know that supposed adults had taken to name calling. He simply smiled a cold smile, at the man but kept silent, hoping the man was intelligent enough to keep quiet this time.

"You're not alone there;" _so much for that hope_ "there's a freak, always coming to crime scenes, showing us up making us look like idiots"

_If they are all like you then I hardly think it's a challenge. _Mycroft thought to himself.

"He gets off on it, dead bodies. He comes in contaminating our crime scenes, him and his fucking shadow." Andiron snorted

Mycroft meanwhile had gripped his umbrella tighter and started to count to ten. In French. He had to give credit to Sherlock for putting up with the man. If Anderson was working for him he would already be shipped off to Alaska with a new name and no fingerprints.

"I don't even know why they come to crime scenes. I mean the freak just shows up and tells up what we would already find out and that doctor is even more useless..."

.._.53-54-55…_

"…That doctor must have something wrong with him if he's not only living with the freak but shagging him. Wouldn't be surprised if the freak drugged him, did his weird freaky mind thing and tricked him into thinking he loved the freak. Impossible no one could even like a weirdo like that. Who knows maybe freak's contagious…"

Mycroft gave up counting and as now imagining the many ways he could hurt the man. He knew of many ways to cover up a murder. Unfortunately being trapped in a lift he doubted he could get away with it.

"…I don't know what the boss is thinking letting a fag into our crime scenes, who knows maybe he's…" Anderson was promptly cut off by an umbrella being pushed threateningly at his throat.

"Now that you have finished you shall remain silent and wait for the lift to be fixed. I shall not hear another word of you insulting Dr Watson or my **Brother,**" Mycroft took a step closer and was pleased to see the man gulp and try to back away only to plaster himself against the lift wall. "And if I hear another word from you insulting DI Lestrade, I will personally make sure that every one of your past dirty secrets is brought to light. I will make sure your wife finds out about your affair with your co-worker, your co-worker will find out she is one of many. I will make sure you are fired and will never have a job in this city again. Everything hinges on your ability to keep your mouth closed. Do I make myself clear?"

Anderson continued to stare, frozen in fear. Mycroft had forgotten he could have that effect on people.

"Nod if you understand" Mycroft ordered.

Anderson quickly nodded and wit a twirl Mycroft lowered his umbrella. Quickly after the lift was fixed and continued its descent. Soon both men were out, Anderson quickly exiting. Mycroft smirked and headed to DI Lestrade office. As soon as he had shut the door he was being pressed against it, his mouth being pleasantly occupied by his partner.


End file.
